


Fuck Me Heels

by ashinan smut (ashinan)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Heels, M/M, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan%20smut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony finds the heels in the back of his closet, hidden away in a white, pristine box. And then he gets ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck Me Heels

**Author's Note:**

> Because PORN. And Tony in heels is sexy as hell.

It happens mostly be accident.

Tony won’t lie and say he doesn’t see the appeal of high heeled shoes; Pepper had looked absolutely _stunning_ in them whenever she would stomp into his workshop, calves gorgeous and ankles perfectly accentuated by thin straps. Tony had spent a good fortune on buying Pepper new shoes, always in different flirty colours, but his favourites had been her red heeled pumps. When they had been dating, Tony had found her a pair of incredibly nice, custom made heels fitted with Iron Man colours. He never had a chance to give them to her.  

He finds them _months_ later, hidden away in the back of his closet. They’re still in the box, a pristine white square that looks awkward amongst Tony’s dark suits. He takes it down, careful, and pulls the lid free. The shoes look like blood and liquid gold, crystallized into what Tony can only amount to pure beauty. He traces a finger down one of the t-straps, overcome by sadness. Pepper would have looked amazing in these.

Sighing, he goes to return the box but something stops him. There’s a niggling in the back of Tony’s head and he frowns, removing one of the shoes. The numbers slip forward, caressing the instep and curling around the heel. He waits, cocking his head to the side as he turns the heel in his hands, and he realizes that if he expands the outer limits about one inch each, he could possibly wear them himself.

The idea makes him flush, and he throws the heels back into the box, shoving the entire thing into the darkest depths of the closet.

But then the idea _stays_.

He thinks about it when he’s downstairs, tinkering with a new synthetic body suit, Dummy holding a magnifying glass and getting distracted by zippers. He thinks about it at dinner, when Clint has to ask him three times how he wants his steak. He thinks about it when Steve curls around him and drops right off. He thinks about it up until he’s digging through the closet again, biting his lip as he removes the box and stares down at those damnable heels. Should he…?

An hour later, he’s standing back in his room, staring at himself in the mirror. He can’t quite see the colours of the heels beneath his jeans, but there’s a peek of gold at the tip of his toes and the glint of red if he turns just to the left. He frowns, takes a few shaking steps, and realizes his jeans catch under his heels. He shucks them before he has a chance to think _really_ what he’s doing.

He can see the heels perfectly now. They accentuate his ankles, not as great as Pepper’s, but close enough. The heels cause his calves to bunch and shift, and his thighs look amazing. He turns in front of the mirror, blatantly admiring his ass, and wonders if he still has some of Pepper’s stockings left. Taking a few steps back, he unconsciously slips three shirt buttons out of their holes and puts a hand on his hip.

“I _can_ pull these off,” Tony says, grinning at his reflection.

“I agree.”

Tony spins, almost breaking his ankle. Steve stands in the doorway, a confused tilt to his head. Tony flushes. “Well, this is awkward.”

He looks around for a possible escape; he hadn’t _quite_ factored in Steve finding him with these on. Especially not the red ones. Granted, he hadn’t gotten around to fixing the other’s to fit and that thought stops him because he just spent an hour modifying _these_ ones. Why would he modify _more_?

“There is a logical explanation for this,” Tony says. Steve closes the door behind him and crosses his arms, eyebrow raised. Tony swallows hard, his feet feeling oddly pinched. This wasn’t the plan. “Well, okay, no. I was bored?”

“Of course you were,” Steve says, moving further into the room. Tony takes another few steps back, suddenly unstable. This would be so much easier if he was wearing pants.

“And well, see, Pepper used to have this vast array of shoes, of all these different colours, and there were some I didn’t give her because of – well, because of reasons. And so I was cleaning up because I’ve been on a cleaning binge lately, and I saw them and I wondered how Pepper could wander around in them so easily.” Steve stops directly in front of him, amusement quirking his lips. Tony kind of wants to trace his lips with his fingers. Instead, he continues. “And that led to me modifying this pair because I thought, why not? It shouldn’t be that hard to walk around in them. But my jeans kept getting caught under my heels and so those had to go and you’re lucky you got here now because I was contemplating putting on stockings to see if they would look better and I’m just going to stop talking.”

There’s a brief silence where Tony actively fights with himself not to say another word, focusing all his energy on Steve and Steve’s reaction. His lips are twitching, climbing slowly up to their sixty seven degree grin, and there’s a feral glint encroaching upon Steve’s usual gaze and next thing Tony knows, he’s being hauled forward by his collar, Steve’s mouth crashing into his.

Tony curls his fingers in Steve’s hair, keeping him in place, and Steve runs a large hand down his spine, over his ass, and _squeezes_. Tony stutters, mouth opening in a gasp, and Steve takes advantage, tongue tangling with Tony’s as he walks them backwards. His heels catch against the carpet but he doesn’t care, because Steve’s hands slip under his boxers, kneading at his ass, and Tony wants nothing more than to climb onto Steve’s lap. Steve falls back, Tony landing heavy on top of him, and that’s perfectly fine. Tony fights with Steve’s shirt, getting it up and over his head in a matter of seconds before he’s drawing numbers over Steve’s chest, tracing zeroes along his abs and sixes over his nipples. Steve taps at Tony’s ribs, forcing him up, and shimmies out of his sweats and boxers, kicking them away. He then flips them both over, going to work on Tony’s shirt.

“What –” Tony starts, but Steve cuts him off with another punishing kiss.

“You look _amazing_ ,” Steve breathes, kissing down Tony’s throat to the arc reactor. Tony arches, legs wrapping tight around Steve’s waist. “I can’t believe you put those on.”

“You – you like them?” Tony asks, gasping as Steve traces his tongue along the rim of the arc reactor. Steve grins at him, scrapping his teeth shortly over Tony’s nipple before leaning up for another kiss. He reaches back and grabs Tony’s ankle, hiking one of his legs up further.

“ _Yes_.”

Tony gasps, tapping Steve’s ass with one of his heels. “Didn’t know this was such a kink for you, Rogers.”

Steve leans back, catching Tony’s foot and pressing a kiss to his strapped ankle. “You have _no idea_.” He pushes Tony’s leg up further, catching it on his shoulder as he leans in close again, kissing him hard. Tony’s other leg wraps high around Steve’s waist, the heel catching on skin and Steve out and out _groans_ , grinding down hard. Tony arches, heel catching the light above, and Steve grinds down on him again, kissing down his throat to his collarbone.

Sucking in a breath, Tony says, “You know – _ah, ah,_ they – they call these _fuck me_ heels.”

Grinning, Steve lips at the arc reactor again, dragging a hand up Tony’s thigh. “Are you trying to tell me something, Tony?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Tony says, arching as Steve reaches into his boxers and palms his cock. “Yes, yes, you need to do that now, because I didn’t know it was a fantasy until you were standing at the door, looking at me like you wanted nothing more than to strip me down to just the heels and watch me beg.”

“That’s certainly a thought,” Steve says, sliding up to catch Tony in a kiss. His hand keeps moving gentle over Tony’s cock, nowhere near enough friction, and if Tony wasn’t already bent almost in half, he would try finding some form of leverage. Steve keeps up the teasing touches, his other hand sliding up and around Tony’s ankle, fingers tight against the straps there. Tony groans into the kiss, nipping at Steve’s lips when Steve speeds up his hand.

Pulling away, Steve sits back and yanks Tony’s boxers off. He catches Tony’s leg as it falls forward, kissing at Tony’s calf, and fiddling with the strap. Tony watches him, eyebrow raised, and Steve runs light fingers up and over Tony’s cock, before switching tactics and jerking him off, quick and just short of painful. Tony writhes, one foot pointing skyward while the other digs dents into Steve’s back. His shirt is too constricting around his arms, and he fights to get it off, fights with the last two buttons that Steve had abandoned once the arc reactor had distracted him. Steve watches, silent, his lips pressed to the gold t-strap on Tony’s ankle, and his motions never falter. Tony’s fingers are shaking so hard that he can’t even _find_ the little buttons let alone get them free, and he gives up when Steve gently sinks his teeth into Tony’s ankle, thumb rubbing hard under the head of Tony’s cock.

“Tell me,” Steve says, just a few short words, and Tony has to fight with himself not to come. Steve kisses down his calf again, catching his knee with a soft nip before he presses sharp teeth against the inside of Tony’s thigh. “What do you want?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Tony says, eyes squeezing shut. There’s a flash of a seven and nine, an easy equation for completion, and Tony gasps as Steve licks at him, just a quick flick of his tongue. When he looks at Steve, Steve swallows him down, his shoulder digging into the meat of Tony’s thigh and keeping him spread wide. Tony gasps, his legs shaking, and he catches sight of a heel, a bright splash of red and gold against his skin, and he bites off another moan. There are words building on his tongue, nonsense formulas and random descriptors, and it’s almost as if Steve knows, as if Steve can read his mind, because he slips a finger down behind Tony’s balls, rubbing dry against his hole, and Tony’s words are replaced by a high pitched whine.

Steve pulls off with a pop. “Look at you,” Steve mutters, rubbing a little harder. “You want it so badly.”

Tony tries to say _yes_ and _please god I want it please_ but all that comes out is gibberish, tangling with the one’s lined up on his heels. He wants it, _he wants it_ , and the only way he can articulate it is by throwing his head back and clenching down on the sheets, one heel catching against the bed and giving him just that tiny bit of leverage. The next time Steve takes him in his mouth, Tony bucks up, as much as he is able, and Steve doesn’t even stall in his motions. He gives Tony more, fingers digging bruises into Tony’s thigh.

Arching back, Tony searches for the discarded lube, fingers clumsy against the mattress with every suck and pull of Steve’s mouth. He grabs hold of it, chucking it haphazardly at Steve’s head in a desperate attempt to make him understand just what Tony can’t quite say. Steve pulls off with a laugh, grabbing up the lube and slicking his fingers. He takes Tony in his mouth again, twisting in two fingers at once, and Tony can’t breathe, can’t move; he’s so close that it _hurts._ When he’s almost there, when he can feel the damn edge, Steve slips in another finger and pulls off. Tony bucks into empty air, hands coming back to push against the headboard for leverage. Steve watches him, mouth still dangerously close to Tony’s cock.

“Heels in the air?” he asks, breath ghosting over Tony’s cock. Tony whines at him, lifting his other leg onto Steve’s shoulder, ignoring the whir of equations that clamour for his attention. Steve twists his fingers, an aborted motion, before removing them with a groan of his own.

“I just want to take you apart,” Steve says, grabbing Tony’s wrists and pinning them to the bed. Tony moans, testing Steve’s hold, and when Steve doesn’t relent, he allows himself to completely let go. The feeling is like freefalling, like moulding steel and alloy together, like finding that place for himself that shouldn’t even exist. Steve seems to understand, gives him a soft smile before leaning down and kissing him again, folding Tony neatly in two. His cock slips over Tony’s hole and Tony fights to get more inside of him, but Steve keeps him in place, teasing back and forth.

“Do it, do it, you know you want to,” Tony says, catching Steve’s gaze and holding it. Steve leans down, until their lips are a breath apart, and pushes in. Tony groans, fingers curling but unable to do anything with Steve holding him down. Steve watches his face, eyes so black there is just a small ring of blue, and when he snaps his hips forward, Tony almost bites through his lip. There’s a brief pause, a moment where Tony almost yells in frustration because Steve is finally there, is finally _inside_ , but not moving, and then Steve shifts his weight, repins Tony’s hands, and sets a ruthless pace.

Tony’s pretty sure he’s screaming, head thrown back as Steve slams into him over and over. The heels click together above Steve’s head and Tony can’t even focus, numbers and Steve’s hair and the red of the heels mixing together into a brilliant mass. Steve’s teeth catch on his clavicle, lips sucking in a bruise, and Tony is in stimulation overload. The heels pinch his toes, giving that bite of pain that mixes with the snap of Steve’s hips and the pull of Tony’s thighs; Steve’s cock catches on his prostate, over and over, and his cock is trapped between their bellies. Tony bites his lip the same moment Steve bites his shoulder, and he’s coming all over himself, shuddering as Steve keeps moving, pace never slowing. He tries to twitch away, whimpering as Steve keeps hitting his prostate. He keeps going and _going_ and Tony squeezes his eyes shut.

“ _Steve_ , Steve, I don’t know if I – _Jesus_ , I can’t – I _can’t_ ,” Tony protests, writhing beneath him. The numbers have bled white and all he can see is _Steve_ , moving sure over top him. Steve kisses up his neck, until he’s brushing lips against Tony’s ear.

“You can take more, can’t you?” Steve says, whisper soft, and Tony shudders. He tries to shake his head _no_ but Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s wrists and shoves in hard. “You want more, I can feel it, how you keep clenching down around me. Come on, Tony. Tell me.”

Tony shakes with every one of Steve’s thrusts, his half-interested cock gaining momentum and it _hurts_ , but it hurts in the same way that the heels hurt, that the push of Steve’s body against his thighs hurts, and Tony loves it, relishes in the flicker of pain that bites into the pleasure. He clenches down when Steve pulls back and Steve chokes, shoves into him so hard Tony’s head catches against his caught wrists.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Steve breathes, and Tony groans, ignoring him completely, clenching as much as he can. Steve stutters out a breath, leaning forward to catch Tony in a sharp kiss and Tony is fully hard again. He whimpers from overstimulation and lack of stimulation, and Steve catches his cock in his hand, jerking him in time with his pace.

“ _Harder_ , please, Steve, please, please, _please_ ,” Tony begs, twisting his body up and Steve pushes him back down again.

“Are you close?” he asks, hand speeding up. Tony stutters in a breath.

“Yes, yes, _yes, please_.”

Steve smiles at him, that untamed twist to his lips that Tony loves. “Together then.”

And with that Steve rotates his hips, catching twice hard on Tony’s prostate and rubbing just under the head of Tony’s cock. Tony wails, back arching and heels pointing. Steve keeps moving, short aborted thrusts as he fills Tony up, hands squeezing Tony’s wrists tight. Tony can’t breathe, he’s shaking with the sensation, and Steve jerks him through it, painting his stomach again. He’s so far gone that the equations are completely blank, all the variables missing, and when Steve kisses him, Tony can’t do more than go through the motions.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to handle another round,” Steve says, nipping at Tony’s nose before carefully pulling out. Tony groans, body aching to follow, and when Steve releases his wrists, Tony just leaves them there, staring dazedly up at the ceiling.

“I can’t,” Tony says. Steve laughs and lets his legs down, kissing first one knee and then the other. There’s a short moment when Tony lets the world come back online, lets the equations filter in at such a sluggish pace that he’s never experienced before, that he doesn’t even notice Steve picking up one of his feet.

“Iron Man colours, huh?” Steve asks. Tony peers at him, finally moving his hands to scrutinize the thin ring of red circling each wrist and grins.

“Custom. For Pepper,” Tony says. Steve runs a finger around the t-strap, smirking.

“Do you have any more ‘custom’ shoes for Pepper?”

Tony laughs, arching his back as he stretches. “Your kink is showing.”

“Next time,” Steve says, lifting Tony’s foot to kiss his ankle, “wear blue ones.”

Tony throws an arm over his eyes and grins. “That can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now with the sequel: [Take Two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/405518). Thanks for reading!


End file.
